SUMMARY: A beautiful new girl transfers to Hogwarts in the Marauders' sixth year. She meets the Marauders, makes new friends, and seems to fit right in—especially when she catches Sirius Black's eye. But she is more than what she seems. When tragedy strikes and her past catches up with her, will her deadly secret, unknown even to her, be unearthed?
DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns the setting and everything that you see in the Harry Potter books. Thanks to Rowling for a brilliant world to write of. However, I do own a few original characters and ideas. If anything in here seems related to another story/fanfic, sorry! It's really not.
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---Introduction: The First Step---
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In my whole life, I've never gotten to that point where you know you can trust and love someone so deeply that you'd be willing to die for them, where you know that you'd be able to give your deepest, darkest secrets with complete confidence that it will never be revealed, where you know in your heart that you'd never be alone again, where you know without a doubt, that wherever you are, at whatever time, there would be a person thinking about you, caring about you. That point, which is the most important thing in life, has always eluded me, slipping out of my fingers again and again.
Why?
Because of, no duh, who I grew up with and what kind of person those people shaped me to be.
A thousand dollars to the brilliant people who can guess who "those people" are.
Sorry, I don't have enough money for everybody who knows. Hell, I don't have enough for even one. Well, here's the answer to anyone who can't figure it out, though I doubt it if anyone is still in question: my family.
My family is nothing out of the ordinary, on the surface, at least. I have a mother, a father, and a sister. Whoopee.
Not.
My sister—half-sister—is as gruesome and ugly as anyone can possibly get. Not on the outsides; no, on the outside she's everybody's sweet little angel.
Not.
She's the devil incarnate. I can hear most people in my mind right now, "Fee? The devil incarnate? Oh, no! She's the sweetest little thing ever!" Yeah, that sums Fiona Prewitt up in a few words.
Of course I'm not being sarcastic.
Even though most people call my half-sister Fee, I'm not close enough to her to call her that. I don't even want to. In my opinion, Fiona's not really my sister, or any relation of mine. At least that what I keep on telling myself, what I want to keep on believing. Not that it does me any good when I see her "sweet little" face everyday.
Oh, joy.
I hate my family, every single one of them. Really, what did I do in my previous life to have deserved to rot in a living hell? I hate Henry Prewitt, my father. He was the cause of all my unhappiness, all my pain, all my suffering. My mother died giving birth to me, and my father just had to go and remarry to a woman called Diana Cauldings, and they went and had Fiona. Let's jump with delight, shall we?
You'll be jumping alone.
I hate her. Seriously. Some people think that hating somebody—anybody—is hard or impossible, but in my family's case, it can't get any easier. God, my whole family hates me as well. I never could see why, but now…I don't really care about the why's of things. Things just are, and there's no changing them. There's no use to keep on hoping that things will be different. As I said, things just are, and that's the end of the story.
End.
Zip.
Blah.
That applies to this feeling I've had since I can remember. I've always felt… empty, somehow, empty and barren and lost, as if a piece of me is missing from my life. It's always gnawing at my insides, eating away at my mind… but I've learned to live with the feeling.
Strange? Not really. Maybe I just have some purpose in life…. Oh, God, now I'm talking bullshit, too. There's nothing in life but death—death and pain. "Where are the joyful things?" you might ask.
"There wasn't any of that to begin with," I would answer. Joy is an illusion; it will never last.
Okay, I'll proceed to the less morbid parts of me. There are two things I like about myself. I like my eyes; they're this amber, golden color. Seriously, it's really gold, not brown, not hazel, and certainly nothing like Henry's eyes. His eyes are a flat, flinty black. The other thing I like is my name: Faye Prewitt. Well, the Prewitt part isn't so nice, as I'd like to have nothing to do with my family, but I like the Faye part. It means fairy, and it sounds so magical and otherworldly… not just in the sense of the real magic that exists. No, to me, it means something… untouchable, intangible, forever out of reach, which is what makes it so mysterious. Not that it matters to Henry. He would have called me dog crap if he had a chance to name me.
Hah. Henry, my father. Some father he is to me. He has hurt me ever since fourth grade. Nope, I'm not giving any details. Sorry… even though I'm really not. Well, I just don't want to talk about it much—it's my deepest pain, my darkest secret.
And this secret was revealed, to my utter shame and pain. But at least Henry and Diana were deprived guardianship of me—and Fiona, though I don't know why Fiona was included in this; Henry and Diana practically fawn over her—and the officials are charging my parents for child abuse.
We had the trial. The scars on my back were enough proof to anyone.
People who believe in the goodness of the world would call this the first step in the long road to recovery. That sounds so corny. No, this is just a change, for the better or worst… who knows? I'm moving to England to live with David Prewitt, Henry's brother, and his family. Fiona's coming. How utterly perfect.
First steps, those people would say. I think my world will be filled with "first steps" from now on. I've been enrolled in a new magic school… and I hope that my life will get better. I was an outcast in my old school, Drake's Institution for Witches and Wizards, except for one person. Andrew Lin. We are best friends, probably because we both don't have any other friends anyway. I know I'll miss him.
And now it's time to move on.
I thought I'd learned that hopes only get dashed. But I can't keep myself from hoping, wishing, praying.
This change... I hope that this change will be for the better.
But who can ever tell?
Only time will ever tell, and time is harsh.
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PLEASE review!!!Yes, I've decided to put my prologue back on. THis is going to be so much work....--